


but one cup of sake

by KrastBannert



Series: The Good, the Bad, and the Life in Between [9]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Death, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gaang (Avatar) as Family, Implied Afterlife, Not Beta Read, Poetry, Sort Of, Stream of Consciousness, Well it's mentioned anyways, death poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrastBannert/pseuds/KrastBannert
Summary: [His time is coming. He can feel it.Zuko knows it, deep in his bones. He’s sluggish and he’s tired and pale, but he’s satisfied. Something tells him that he should be upset, and yet…he’s not.He’s lived a good life, he thinks. A long life.A life where he’s been blessed with so much, and so many.]------Zuko is old, and his time has come. The day he knows is his last, he revives one more forgotten tradition before he passes.
Relationships: Izumi & Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar) - mentioned
Series: The Good, the Bad, and the Life in Between [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858354
Comments: 15
Kudos: 72
Collections: avatar tingz





	but one cup of sake

His time is coming. He can feel it.

Zuko knows it, deep in his bones. He’s sluggish and he’s tired and pale, but he’s satisfied. Something tells him that he should be upset, and yet…he’s not.

He’s lived a good life, he thinks. A long life.

A life where he’s been blessed with so much, and so many.

He stops as he walks into his room, decorated with the memories of a century of life. ‘Hang on to the moments, because one day…they’ll be all you have,’ a good friend had once told him. And now, with a memory that feels more like a fishing net some days than a bucket, he finally understands what he’d meant.

He gazes around at the memories that dot the walls, blinks away the tears that prick at the corners of his eyes. There’s so many stories written in these pictures and paintings and souvenirs. He’d tried to write them all down, but there were so many…

His old dao and Blue Spirit mask hang on one wall. Next to it is a set of ceremonial shuriken, obsidian with ruby inlay along the hilt. There’s even more knick-knacks all around – pieces he’d gathered, gifts from friends and family from the Southern Water Tribe to Air Temple Island and everywhere in between. On other walls are painting and pictures. Some he painted – a picture of the _Wani_ in her rusty glory, a view of the Western Air Temple, the old beach house on Ember Island, Iroh and Azula in front of the Jasmine Dragon. There were others, too, done professionally; the full ‘Jasmine Dragon Crew’, with extended families and friends from all over, the last time they’d all been together. Zuko and what was left of the _Wani’s_ crew. Azula and he on the day he restored her as a princess, at the very first Lotus Festival. Chit Sang with Zuko and Mai on the day he retired. Zuko and Mai, the day they were married.

His eyes linger on the largest painting, from the last full gathering of Team Avatar. He stands with Sokka and Aang at the back, their arms around each other. Azula and Toph are standing in front of them back to back, their arms crossed, Mai and Katara leaning on Sokka and Zuko, respectively. Suki and Ty Lee are sprawled on the ground, and everyone is smiling brightly, like they were immortal.

He doesn’t realize he’s moved until he’s holding the painting in his hands, and there’s a wet splotch on the canvas.

So many people he’d met, that he’d cared about…so many people he’d get to see once more.

Zuko replaces the painting on the wall, wipes his face on his sleeve. He had been the oldest of Team Avatar, of _all_ their friends, and now, he’s the last one. As usual, it seemed. He hopes he hasn’t kept them waiting too long. He turns, strides to his desk, to the picture he can’t help but love most. It’s simple, charcoal on parchment, but that’s not why he loves it.

It’s him, his wife, and his children – his family, his beautiful, precious, incredible family. His eyes linger on the lithe figure of his wife as he runs his fingers over the rough parchment.

“I’ll see you soon, my Fire Lily,” he murmurs to himself. He still remembers the day that Mai had passed. She’d asked for one more fruit tart. ‘One more for the road,’ she’d rasped. He’d fed it to her, bit by bit, and when she was finished, she’d smiled at him, so soft and gentle, and she’d given his hand a gentle squeeze.

She’d said,’ It’s more beautiful than you can imagine,’, and then…she was gone.

And every day afterwards, the world seemed just a little bit darker.

He glances around again, thinking to himself. He’s spent years working on his memoirs, trying to tell every story he possibly could. But he still feels some sort of…some of calling. Like he needs to write _just one more thing_. An idea flickers in his mind, something he’d heard of, many, many years ago.

One last tradition for him to revive.

He sits at his desk, one he thought he’d never sit at again, for one final time. He rummages around and pulls out a ream of paper, a quill, and an ink tray. He dips the quill in the ink, swirls it around for a long moment, and begins to write. He erases and revises and restarts, tears through sheet after sheet of paper, looking for just the right set of his words to encompass a _lifetime_. He writes, long past sunset, long into the night hours. He’s completely absorbed, a man possessed, and he doesn’t realize it until there’s a knock on his door.

Zuko blinks and finally pulls away from the paper. It’s good timing, because he thinks he’s finally gotten it. He lets out a deep breath, putting his quill down as the door cracks open.

“Dad?” his daughter calls. He turns, smiles at her.

“I’m here, turtleduck,” he whispers, and Izumi smiles back. But it’s drawn and sad, and Zuko realizes – she knows. She _knows_.

“I just…wanted to know if you needed anything,” she asks, wringing her hands. He stands slowly, wincing as his knees crackle and pop, and he goes to her. He takes her hands in his, rubs his bony thumbs over her knuckles. If he can reassure her some way, this one last time…but he can’t, can he? They both know the truth.

” Just a glass of water, sweetheart. And…get your brothers, and your sister.”

Her eyes crinkle and her cheeks suddenly glint, and there’s a look in her eyes that says she doesn’t want to go, but she nods anyways.” I’ll be back soon. Don’t…don’t fall asleep yet, old man.”

Anything, he thinks, anything for my little girl. But he doesn’t want to speak. He’s close, he’s so close now. He can’t explain how he knows but he simply does. And he…he wants to say goodbye. Instead he nods, gives her a pat on the shoulder.

She leans in close, wraps her arms around him gently, timidly, then she’s gone. She closes the door softly behind her, and he lets out a deep breath. He sits on his bed and kicks off his slippers, rests against the headboard.

When she returns, she brings a glass of water. And…everyone. She’s brought _everyone_. His _family_.

His children, his beautiful children, Lu Ten and Katsuhito and Sakura, are the first through the door after Izumi. And then their spouses – Akiko and Ujarak and Lian - then there’s his grandkids, all of them, and even his _great_ grandkids, and his nieces and nephews and _their_ children.

Agni, was he really that old?

And then Korra and Asami are there, linked arm in arm, and he doesn’t know how either of them knew, but it feels better, knowing that Aang is, in a way, here to watch over him as he goes.

His great-grandchildren pile around him on the bed, bouncing and smiling and laughing and asking for _just one more story, grandfather!_

He smiles, tears clutching at his eyes, and he shakes his head. He doesn’t have the time. Not anymore.

He looks around, looks around at all the faces that have gathered here. And there’s so many, there’s so many and his heart is so incredibly, violently full as they all take turns, leaning in for one last hug, whispering professions and love in his ear.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and lets it out. He opens his eyes, and with all the energy he has left in him, takes one last, long look. He gazes at his great grandchildren, at Korra and Asami – who were as much his nieces as Kiyi and Azula’s children were – at his grandchildren and children. They’re all in tears, sniffling and choking back sobs, and the tears are starting to

And, finally, he looks at Izumi.

Izumi, his firstborn. Izumi, his heir, his dragon, his precious turtleduck takes his hand in hers.” I’m not ready, daddy,” she whispers, choking back a sob.” I’m scared.”

Zuko can only smile. She’s been ready. She’s been ready for twenty-two years.” No one is ever really ready, turtleduck. But this isn’t goodbye.” He gazes around, stares at the sea of faces around him, scattered with tears and filled with sniffling. Lu Ten and Katsuhito are crying, their quiet sobs echoing, and Korra is barely holding herself together.

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of this. And yet somehow, Agni had seen fit to bless him with so much love, and he will always, _always_ be grateful, in this life and the next.

He turns back to Izumi, Izumi who was ever her mother’s daughter, and presses her knuckles to his lips. He wants to say…he wants to say that he’ll tell Mai about her. He wants to say that he’ll make sure the Spirit World is ready for her, to make sure it’s safe. But somehow, he thinks she knows that he wants to say that, because she simply leans down and presses a tearful kiss to his forehead.

“It’s okay, daddy,” she sobs, wrapping her arms around his neck. Just one more time.” You can let go.”

“It’s alright, turtleduck,” he murmurs back.” I love you.”

“Don’t cry, my loves,” he whispers as Izumi pulls away.” I’ll see you again.”

Zuko leans back, takes a deep breath. It’s as if he’s floating, floating in space, and suddenly, she’s there, standing at his side. Her beautiful black hair is still pinned up in her buns, her robes flow around her, her deep brown eyes flash in fake annoyance, full of love and _relief_.

“Come on, old man,” his Fire Lily says, extending her hand.” It’s time to come home.”

He smiles, reaches, slips his hand into Mai’s waiting fingers. She’s as beautiful as the day he lost her…and he can’t wait to see the others.

“It’s time,” Zuko breathes. At long last, he closes his eyes, and he smiles, one last time. Mai had been right, all those years ago.

It’s more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

-[-]-

_Yesterday, Lord Zuko Kenshin, the Dragon of Caldera, passed away, surrounded by family and friends. A renowned warrior, bender, and leader, he will be remembered as an uncle, a father, grandfather, a great-grandfather, and a dear friend to all._

_The following was found on his desk after his death:_

“A century has passed like a dream, and I know not what is life, nor death.

Year in year out – all but a story in memory.

I leave one world for another, at last to rejoin my friends.

My life and my glories have become but one cup of sake.

Now I stand in the dawn, among the clouds, free at last."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was enjoyable. I made myself cry writing the end of this. If I make anyone else cry, I apologize.
> 
> This story was inspired by the concept of the East Asian 'death poem', in particular those of the Japanese tradition. Traditionally written before one's death, they reflect on the idea that death isn't the end, merely a transition. They are an ancient tradition at least in Japan, dating back to at least 686 C.E. and the forced suicide of Prince Ōtsu. The poem in particular that I thought of while writing this, and the poem that this work takes its title from, is that of Uesugi Kenshin, one of the most powerful and most renowned daimyos of the _Sengoku_ period. I decided to use Kenshin as Zuko's family name, even though it's technically a first name, because it just...it just really seems to work, somehow.
> 
> I based Zuko's death poem upon Kenshin's ([here](https://phillipjohnston.net/blog/2018/04/25/death-poem-of-uesugi-kenshin/)). What I wrote is almost certainly done poorly and definitely doesn't adhere to any of the traditional rules, and I apologize for that. I'm not a poet.
> 
> And yes, I gave Zuko and Mai more kids other than Izumi. I hate the idea of Izumi being an only child; I have a sister, and as different as she and I are and as annoying as she can be, I honestly don't know what I would do without her, and I really wanted to let Izumi have someone like that. I can provide the full family tree if anyone's curious.
> 
> All names apart from canon ones are taken from BehindTheName.
> 
> Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this, if you made it to the end. Please drop me a comment saying what you liked and what you didn't!
> 
> Stay safe out there, my dudes.


End file.
